University of Virginia Library


27

SCENE VI.

York. Warwick. Salisbury.
Salisb.
What think you, Now?—Were Mine, but vain Surmises?
Or, was the Net spred, only, for the Dutchess?

York.
What farther Mischiefs, Salisbury, do you trace?

Salisb.
The Duke, and all His Friends (expressly We)
Are shut out from the King, now sate in Council.—
And yet, the Parliament is held, to Morrow!
By this Procedure, it seems evident,
They mean to set aside the Lord Protectour.

Warw.
Then, England, bid Adieu to all thy Hopes!

York.
Before they can divest him of his Office,
They must obtain the Parliament's Concurrence.

Salisb.
Even That may be obtain'd.—But, Where is Gloucester?
Or, lives he, still, supine; wrapt up, in his
Integrity?

Warw.
This Evening, at My House,
We are to meet him.

York.
But, with his wonted Goodness,
He gives up his Resentments to the State;
And does intreat, His Wrongs may not be mention'd.

Warw.
Even the fond Husband to the Patriot yields!

Salisb.
That honest Men should be so blinded by
Their Vertue!—So devoid of Jealousy!

York.
My Heart is troubled for the banish'd Dutchess.

Salisb.
Know, then; I have prevail'd with Sir John Stanley,
To keep his Prisoner here, a Day, at least.—
But, of This, the Duke is not to be inform'd.
Let Him believe her, gone;—

Warw.
Or, He would visit her,
This Night.—


28

York.
That must not be.—

Salisb.
But, to return.—
Malice towards Him, is Malice towards the Publick!—
How shall we save the State, if He be ruin'd?
And, how prevent His Ruin, if we suffer
These wicked Counsellours, about the King?

York.
And, how remove them from his Person?

Salisb.
By Attainder.—
Their Crimes will furnish out a Charge, to crush
The Mignion of the Queen, her new-made Duke,
And that old Serpent, Beaufort.

Warw.
These remov'd;
Deluded Buckingham has no Support.

Salisb.
Let other Business wait, 'till This be done.
What, though the mean Artificers did make
A Holiday?—What, though the houseless Crew,
Who live upon the Dole of Priests, did shout?—
The Citizens, the Commoners, the Peers,
All, who have Sense of Vertue, mourn'd to see
Good Gloucester's Wife abus'd. All cry aloud,
We will avenge the good Duke Humfrey!—This Occasion,
The last we e'er may have, must not be lost.

York.
'Tis well advis'd, my Lord: You lay, before us,
The Danger, and the Safety, of the Nation.—
We must begin by weeding out these Traitours.
What profits all the Plowman's Skill and Pain,
If Tares and Brambles choke the rising Grain?
What Force have Laws to make the People blest,
If factious Spirits do the State molest?